


I Can Think of Worse Ways to Spend an Evening

by ScreamingAtTheSky



Category: Veronica Mars - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 05:00:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26966320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScreamingAtTheSky/pseuds/ScreamingAtTheSky
Summary: A little fun AU fic here, set in New York City where Logan owns a bar and Veronica comes in to meet a blind date there! I just love the idea that these two characters, no matter where they are, gravitate toward each other in an inexplicable way!Hope it makes you smile!And I hope the "G" rating doesn't offend anyone - I know there are some mature themes in here, but I just didn't feel it was graphic enough to warrant an "M."Stay well and safe, friends!
Relationships: Logan Echolls/Veronica Mars
Comments: 27
Kudos: 91





	I Can Think of Worse Ways to Spend an Evening

Logan scans the clientele hanging around the bar, nodding to himself, as he adjusts his tie and then cracks his knuckles. Not a bad crowd for a Thursday night. There is the table of annoyingly eager yuppies drinking the busy workday away, not quite accepting yet that their days of “Thirsty Thursday” are several years in the past. Off to the left are the girlfriends – all seemingly new moms if the baby pictures and diaper war stories they keep throwing around are any indication. In his usual seat dead center is Lonely Larry, the poor, distraught widower who comes here basically every day that ends in y just to share the company. He can usually count on Larry to exchange an eye roll with him when especially rude or drunk customers act unseemly, and he always gives him his first drink for free. His eyes stop their perusal when he gets to the right-hand side of the bar and sees... _her_. This is a new face, he thinks, as he watches her swirl the rose around in the large wine glass she’s holding, rather than drink any of it. He wonders who served her, sure he would have remembered doing so. He’s also sure that she’s never been in here before – he liked to think if she had, he’d know her name, phone number, and the color of her bedroom walls by now. Logan’s always had a thing for blondes and this vision has shoulder-length wavy blonde hair. It’s the color of the sun and it moves from side to side like water as she turns her head in different directions, looking positively golden when the light catches it just so. She’s got a mouth that looks like it’s literally begging to be kissed – full lips that are decorated with the shiniest lip gloss he’s ever seen. He is sure it tastes like strawberries and sin. She’s wearing a knee-length black pencil skirt, a low-cut cream-colored tank top, a black blazer, and a diamond necklace that lands just where he’d like his mouth to be. She’s wearing a dainty silver bracelet, but no ring – but why would that matter, right? And, most captivating of all, those eyes. They are the clearest blue he’s ever seen – like pools, no, like the ocean in the middle of the summer, right at sunrise, when the waves are at their most spectacular (man, did he miss California – New York might be the city that never sleeps, but it’s hard to beat those west coast vibes). Her piercing eyes are so focused, like she doesn’t just look _at_ things, she looks _into_ them. She is so...alert. Man, does he need to get laid. Just an attractive woman being conscious near him is enough to turn him on. Needless to say, whatever the reason, he is drawn to this woman. There is just something about her, he can’t put his finger on it – but he’d like to, his finger and other parts of his body if he is being honest.

“Are you a bartender or a Mars-tender?”

She is speaking. The goddess is speaking and damn if it isn’t the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard. Her voice is deeper than he expected, clear, confident, with a hint of humor in it. He can listen to her talk all night; he is sure of it. Talk, scream, moan, whatever she prefers works just fine for him. And that’s good, because, at the moment, she is talking to him. And he would have been happy about it too, if he had any idea what she was saying.

“I’m sorry, what?” He steps closer to her, mostly to hear her better over the cackling moms and the drunken yuppies, but also a little bit because closer to her seems like the only place he wants to be.

She laughs – at herself, at him, he isn’t sure which, but it is a delightful sound, quick and guttural. She is someone who laughs like she means it. He hasn’t met enough people like that in his life.

“No, _I’m_ sorry – that joke would have made a lot more sense if you knew my name. I’m Veronica...Veronica _Mars_.” She sticks her hand out to shake his, which never happens to him. He is, after all, the lowly bartender, there to get people drinks and sometimes food, maybe flirt with them if they deigned him worthy of it and needed the attention, but never with the intention of actually getting to know him. She is respectful. Which is something that had literally never mattered to him before in a woman but now is all he can seem to think about.

“Ah, good one. I’m Logan...Echolls.” He doesn’t know why he gives her his full name – maybe to make sure she feels like he’s giving her as much as she’s given him, keep the playing field level. He almost never does that. Being the son of two movie stars made him anything but anonymous his whole life, and more often than not, people talk to him and connect with him for all the wrong reasons. But she seems above all that somehow, like she couldn’t be bothered by celebrity, which just makes her even more attractive to him.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you Logan. So, tell me, do you stare this intently at all your customers or am I just...lucky?” She (Veronica) tilts her head to the side and narrows her eyes at him. She is hesitant, suspicious, a little guarded. He wants to know why. And, more than anything, he wants to be the reason those walls she’d obviously worked so hard to build come down.

“Sorry,” he says again, “you just, you looked so familiar to me, I could swear I knew you, but I couldn’t think from where.” He might be smitten, but he could recover quickly enough.

“So, what’s the verdict then? _Do_ we know each other?” Her eyes glow with humor now, turning even bluer. She probably hasn’t fallen for his lie, but she hasn’t left or moved away or stopped talking to him, so that’s gotta mean something.

“Unfortunately, no. But we can change that anytime. You just say the word.” He is flirting with her – probably poorly, but he has to try. While he loves his job and this bar right in the heart of the always-exciting Soho (he actually owns the bar, but he never tells customers that – you find out more about people based on how they treat the servers at an establishment rather than how they treat its owner), a woman like her rarely comes into it. He’ll regret it if he doesn’t take this chance.

She looks at him closely – no, “looks at” doesn’t do it justice. She’s _examining_ him. “You’re forward.” 

She doesn’t look upset though. Curious? Yes. Amused? Sure. But angry? Uncomfortable? No. He thinks she might actually be enjoying their little game.

“Is there a question in there somewhere?” He smirks at her – it’s a smirk he’s been perfecting since he was 13, long before he actually knew or appreciated just how powerful a tool it could be when seducing a woman.

“Just an observation. Sort of my job. Watching people closely.”

“Professional voyeur? If I had known that was an option in college, I would have switched my major.”

“From... _bartending_?” Her voice is more playful than judgmental, but honestly, even if she was judging him, he wouldn’t care. As long as she keeps talking to him.

“Communications, thank you very much.”

“But of course! It’s all making sense.”

He wonders what exactly she means by that, but he’s overcome by his need to know more – everything – about her, so instead he presses, “So you were telling me how you’re a glorified pervert for a living?”

“It’s a little scary how accurate that is.” She chuckles lightly as she says this, and again he can feel his heart expand. “Or at least, it feels that way sometimes. I’m a P.I.” She offers this last statement as if it explains everything. Which, in a way, it does. The suspicious nature, the observant stare, the sexy cleavage...ok, that last one is just icing on the cake. But it can’t be easy when you get to see society’s seedy underbelly for a living. He suddenly wants to save her from that world...except, she doesn’t seem to want to be saved. In fact, she looks happy with her position. He can think of a position that he hopes would make her happier. He shakes his head slightly and adjusts his pants – this woman is driving him mad and she doesn’t even know she’s doing it.

“Ah. I see – I’m sure watching all those cheating spouses can feel...” He’s tempted to joke and say “erotic”, but she cuts him off with the truth.

“Wrong sometimes, yeah. It can be tough to watch people in their most intimate moments. But it’s the job, you know? Anyway, you have a customer.”

“I don’t remember offering you my services, what did you have in mind?” He leans closer to her over the bar, so thrilled that she wants something from him that he doesn’t even notice the twenty-something guy (as long as it’s not under twenty-one, who cares?) waiting to place his drink order.

“Sorry to disappoint Casanova, but I’m not requesting any services – I meant _him_.” She points in the direction of the loser in the suit waiting to order his Malibu Bay Breeze or some other shitty drink and Logan is literally angry that he has to stop talking to her for even a second. There have to be men in this bar just waiting to hit on her and he doesn’t want any of them to worm their way in while he’s preoccupied serving this Charlie Sheen-in-Wall Street-wannabe. Wait, what is he thinking? Look at her, there’s no way she’s single. He doesn’t see a ring, but that doesn’t mean anything these days. His heart sinks as he gets the guy his drink (a pina colada – does he know his douchebags or what?), but he turns back to her as quickly as he can and is delighted to see that she’s in her same seat and still without company.

“Ugh, work,” he says to her as he rolls his eyes to the ceiling and they share a laugh. “So, Veronica Mars, dazzle me with your PI skills.”

“And how do you suggest I do that?”

“Investigate me. Get your sleuth on. I don’t know how it works.”

Her eyes light up and he is so pleased with himself he can’t contain his smile. He has played right into her strengths and excited her in the process. She narrows her eyes and crinkles her nose as she looks him up and down, over and over. He’s not sure what she’s looking for, but if she never takes her eyes off of him it’ll still be too soon. Finally, she nods to herself.

“You’re not a native New Yorker. I’m thinking West Coast, probably California, still fairly new to the city, maybe moved here within the last couple years. You come from money, but you’re not privy to it anymore – I’m assuming you used most of it to buy this bar. You’re single, but rarely alone. And you want to sleep with me.” She sits back in her chair, looking so satisfied that they might as well have just had sex. She crosses her arms over her chest and smiles at him. He can feel his mouth drop open, but he can’t speak. “Well? How’d I do?”

“You...that was...how did you do that?” He knows he sounds like a stuttering fool and he doesn’t love that, certainly, but he is too stunned by the accuracy of her assessment to fix it.

“I’m just that good?” He rolls his eyes and she gives in. “Ok, ok. Fine. You don’t have even the slightest trace of a New York accent, but you can’t keep the surfer boy out of your voice. I should know, I’m from Southern California too, so, you know, takes one to know one and all that. Anyway, this shows me you spent a long time in SoCal but haven’t spent _that_ long a time here. You already have a job though and you’re established – this bar’s been in the neighborhood about 18 months now. I know you’re more than just the bartender here because you’re not wearing the same uniform as any of the other servers. You’re in a dress shirt and tie for Christ’s sake. The tie is silk, expensive, I’m guessing Armani or something like that.” (She shrugs here, as if she couldn’t care less about name brands and designer clothes.) “Your nails are pristine, your teeth are perfect, you’re used to having money and spending money, but you’re invested in this place, you want it to do well, which means you’re relying on it, too. You keep checking around, making sure people are getting served and everything’s ok. As for being single but not alone? Well, you’re attractive – obviously not telling you anything you don’t already know there – and there’s no ring on your finger. But the cell phone next to the cash register, which I’m assuming is yours, has been going off the entire time we’ve been talking, meaning you’re getting texts and calls all night long.”

Logan is completely and thoroughly impressed with her. Everything she said is right. She doesn’t know enough about his past to know _why_ he chose bartending (he’d basically been a professional drinker since he was 14 – might as well learn how to make money doing what you’re good at, right? So, he’d taken bartending classes and business classes after his waste of a communications degree and voila). But she did leave out one important detail that he would _love_ to her get take on. “Impressive. You are one hell of a private investigator. But how’d you know I want to sleep with you?” 

She blushes and her pale skin turns the most beautiful shade of pink he’s ever seen. The color goes all the way to her chest, and it doesn’t look like it stops there. How he’d love to be the cause of that color sweeping over her whole body. “Oh. Well that last part was a joke.” She puts her head in her hands, too embarrassed to look at him. He can’t have this though – she’s so beautiful and confident, she has no reason to be embarrassed for being desirable, not on his watch, anyway. He leans down closer to her, forcing her eyes to meet his without touching her...yet.

“I’d call it more of a lucky guess.” He winks at her then. She rolls her eyes at him and that seems to bring her back, the snark, the banter. She craves it just as much as he does. Veronica Mars is a formidable foe and he can’t imagine he would ever get tired of doing _this_ with her. 

“So why don’t you give it a try? What can you tell about me?” She sits up straight in her chair, flips her golden hair over her shoulders, folds her hands in her lap, and almost presents her breasts to him in the most glorious way. She’s looking at him with such innocence and grace that the desire to bend her over this bar is almost overwhelming. The things he could do to her if just given the chance. He knows he’s good in bed, his code word is endurance and he never gives up until the woman is satisfied – his first girlfriend, Lily Kane, taught him that. She was a force, just like Veronica, but with less inhibitions and, he’s assuming, more experience. So, he knows if he shows her that side of himself too quickly, he’ll risk scaring her away and that is the last thing he wants to do. 

As he’s deciding his next move, the table of women trying to recreate every scene from “Bad Moms” orders another round of tequila shots. He excuses himself to get their drinks, during which they shamelessly flirt with him and he flirts right back (hey, this is tip business after all, and he’ll split it with his servers and God knows they deserve it). He can’t help but notice that Veronica is watching them – scratch that, she’s watching _him_ – closely the whole time. And there’s a well-concealed but noticeable fire in her eyes that wasn’t there before. She looks a bit like a puma, ready to pounce. No, it’s not quite a puma, it’s something else...he’ll think of it later. The point is, he thinks she might want him too. And this changes the game.

Logan saunters back over to her after the moms gone wild down their shots and tip him a fifty – one of them places it in his shirt breast pocket and he _knows_ Veronica saw that.

“Don’t you feel dirty?” she asks, and the jealousy is obvious now and he loves it.

“Don’t worry sugar puss, I only have eyes for you.”

“Shut up. And never call me that again.” She smiles and smacks his arm and it’s the first physical contact they’ve had since their far-too-short handshake earlier. He’s so tempted to grab her hand as she pulls it away and kiss the inside of her wrist, just to get a reaction from her, to test it out. But he’s still too scared to do that. She isn’t like any of his usual conquests. He actually _wants_ this one to stick around. “Ok, weirdo. Quit staring and investigate me, already.”

Of all the things he wants to do to her, _investigate_ is like 37th on that list, but he squints his eyes in an exaggerated way as he scrutinizes her, beyond pleased when it makes her laugh, and says, “You are...very motivated by your work.”

She scoffs. “You can do better than that.”

“I’m just getting warmed up. You don’t have a lot of close friends, but the ones you do have mean the world to you. You’re single. You don’t have a lot of time to date. Your friends try to set you up, constantly, but being single doesn’t bother you. You don’t need anyone to be happy. You’ve given in to them though and, sadly, you’re waiting to meet a guy here tonight.” He pauses, intentionally, noticing that she’s unconsciously gotten closer and closer to the bar as he’s been speaking. He leans in and whispers in her ear, “And you want to sleep with me, too.”

This is it. This is the deciding moment. If he’s gone too far, she’ll tell him. Actually, she’ll show him, because she’ll probably slap him across the face and storm out. Then, it’ll be over and he’s not sure how he’ll deal with that. If past Logan has anything to say about it, it’ll be with a bottle of Jack, his room, and finding out if one of the women at table three is a _single_ mom gone wild. But if she gives him even one inch, he’s taking a mile and then some.

Her eyes are dilated and she’s gripping the edge of the bar like she’s holding on for dear life. She stares at him for what feels like forever and then, finally, a ghost of a smile creeps over her face as she asks, “How did you know I was meeting a date here?”

He purses his lips and exhales slowly, so relieved that she’s not leaving that he doesn’t care enough to hide it and almost misses the fact that she’s staring at his mouth. Almost.

“Because, first of all, look at you.” He stops, almost as if that should be enough, but she gestures for him to continue. “And, you know, it’s after six, you’re dressed...nicely” (somehow, “like every man’s deepest fantasy” feels a little over the top) “but you’re here alone. You’ve had one glass of wine since you got here, which you haven’t even finished, so you obviously don’t want to get drunk. You’re in public, so it’s a safe place to meet someone but it’s a bar so it’s intimate enough that you can find privacy if you wanted it...” He lets his voice trail off because, embarrassing as it is, the thought of her hitting it off with some guy is just too much for him to bear. 

She seems taken aback, whether by his honesty or by how on-point his assessment is, he’s not sure. She cocks one eyebrow at him and says, “Well, Echolls, you might have missed your calling. That was some pretty adequate detective work.”

“That’s the rule I live by – strive for greatness but settle for adequacy.”

“Oh, I doubt you’d be satisfied with being just _adequate_ at anything.”

He chuckles, because he can’t not, she’s just so adorable. And yet, he hears innuendo behind her words, and thinking about what her statement might mean is causing him to have to shift in his pants again. Well, there’s one sure fire way to reduce an unwanted erection...

“So, tell me about this guy you’re supposed to meet.”

She scrunches her nose up in disgust. “His name is Tim. He’s my friend Wallace’s co-worker. They teach at the same private school. Wallace says he’s really nice and funny.” She delivers all of these facts as if she’s telling him that Tim is a professional street mime who deals drugs in his spare time.

“He sounds awful.”

“I know, right? But that’s what I should be looking for I guess, a _normal_ guy.” She makes quotation marks in the air as she says this.

Somehow, when Veronica says normal, it becomes synonymous with predictable, vanilla, boring. He feels like she’s only thinking she has to be with a guy like that because everyone’s telling her to. But settling for normal would just dull the fire inside her. And he doesn’t want that for her. He wants him for her. He wants _her_. End of sentence.

“You don’t strike me as the type of woman who cares about what’s normal.” He uses the air quotes too. He wants her to know he’s on her team, whether she’s attracted to him or not.

“I _don’t_. It’s just...” her voice trails off and she bites on her thumbnail before continuing. Logan can practically see the wheels turning in her head. “My life has been what some might call atypical. My mom was a raging alcoholic who left us when I was fifteen. My dad – he’s the best, by the way, and the one thing I miss about California – is a P.I. too and I’ve worked with him since I was a teenager. I was attacked by a serial rapist when I was in college before I took him and his partner down – talk about monsters. I’ve just seen people at their absolute worst more often than not and I guess I just wanted a chance to be like everybody else. Wallace calls me a drama magnet and he’s right; you know? Like even right now, I’m supposed to meet this guy, who might be perfectly nice and fine, and I’m sitting here, flirting with a promiscuous bartender who lies to everyone he knows about how much money he has.” At this, she throws her head down on the bar and bangs it, lightly, two times. 

“Hey, hey, it’s ok.” He puts a hand on her shoulder to stop her and it’s the first time he’s touched her and even though she’s just revealed her inner turmoil to him, he doesn’t want to let go. “I’m not _that_ promiscuous.”

She lifts her head from the bar and laughs, and it’s low and sexy this time as she says, “You’re a jackass.” She’s not being cruel. In fact, she says the word with such affection, he’d swear she’s using it as a pet name for him.

“Kidding, kidding.” He holds his hands up in the air to signify defeat. “But seriously, Veronica, I’m sorry for all those things you’ve been through. The fact that you’re even still standing...” They both look at her lap at the same time as he continues, “Well, sitting, is amazing. You’re strong. And sexy. And smart. You shouldn’t be with someone normal. You should be with someone who knows how badass you are, someone who deserves you. Someone who drives you crazy and makes you laugh and calls you on your shit...” He stops himself before saying, “Someone like me” because, honestly, this isn’t some romantic comedy and even he’s not delusional enough to think he gets _this_ girl.

She is staring at him with her mouth slightly open. Her blue eyes are swimming with emotion – he can’t quite read what it is, mainly because he’s too afraid to get his hopes up. Her voice is barely above a whisper as she says, “Thank you, Logan.”

Ok. He loves her. He freaking loves this girl. Time to deflect.

“Eh. Us Californians have to stick together. I’m from LA – born and raised. You?”

“Little beach town called Neptune. But you might have heard it also referred to as the tenth circle of hell.”

“Ouch, that bad, huh?”

“Let’s just say, I’m happy to finally live somewhere I feel safe. And there were at least three people stabbed on my block last week alone.”

She is so funny. He cannot remember the last time he’s enjoyed a woman’s company this much when they were both fully dressed. He laughs heartily at her joke and she smiles in return.

“But seriously folks, if my dad didn’t still live there, I would have _no_ reason to ever go back.”

No reason to return to your hometown? Nothing there but painful reminders and bad memories? Yeah, he knows the feeling. His abusive movie-star dad and pill-addicted suicidal mom certainly assuaged his homesickness. But if he focuses on the pain of his past, there’s no way he can give Veronica his full attention in the present and talking to her is _way_ better than lamenting his rotten childhood.

As he’s about to change the subject, a group of rowdy customers come into the bar and start a tab, ready to place a large drink and food order. “Duty calls!” He sends a quick salute her way and then immediately calls to one of his best servers, Natalie, to assist him behind the bar. He doesn’t want to stop talking to Veronica, basically ever, but she was right – he _is _invested in this place. He does watch her watching him from the corner of his eye though, and he puts a little extra flair into his drink making for her benefit. He sees her tip her head back and laugh when he flips a vodka bottle behind his back and catches it in his other hand. His chest puffs out with pride as he sees her reject not one but two suitors who sidle up to talk to her. It’s not even like she tries to be nice - she just tells them to go away, first with her eyes, then with her words. And she just keeps getting hotter to him. He almost drops a wine bottle when she uncrosses and then crosses her legs again and he gets the slightest view of her thigh as her skirt bunches up. That’s it. If they start dating, she _can’t_ be here while he’s working. Too distracting. He also needs to stop thinking about what’ll happen when they “start dating.” She has a date on the way and if Tim doesn’t fall in love with her at first sight, he’s either blind or gay, so Logan doesn’t stand a chance. He needs to put himself out of his misery before it’s too late.__

__When the drink orders are dispensed and the food order taken, Logan heads back over to Veronica’s spot at the bar. He knows what he needs to do. “So, when is Tim supposed to be here?” It takes all his strength not to say the man’s name with a sneer._ _

__“Oh, um, I think we said 7.” He could be lying to himself, but he swears she seems upset at the mention of Tim’s name. Maybe all hope is not lost. He looks down at his Rolex, shocked by what he sees._ _

__“Uh, Veronica? It’s 8:15.” Two hours. They’d been talking and flirting for two hours. And, somehow, that wasn’t the highlight. The highlight was that Tim, aka the dumbest stupidest asshole on earth, didn’t show up for their date. He watches her closely as he sees the understanding of the situation hit her._ _

__“Huh. Well. I think we can call it then. He’s not coming.” She doesn’t look sad at missing out on what he can only imagine would be Tim’s lackluster company, but she does look embarrassed. And a little hurt. He could feel a tiny piece of his heart break with hers. Somehow, her feeling pain is making him feel it, too._ _

__“I’m sorry Veronica. Something probably came up – maybe his hamster was giving birth?” He is trying to be helpful, but also make her smile._ _

__“More likely his wife,” she scoffed._ _

__“I’m sure Wallace would have told you if the guy he was setting you up with was married.”_ _

__“You don’t know.” She smiles slightly at this though, perhaps because it seems like they already have a mutual friend._ _

__Logan continues with his ideas for Tim’s absence, desperate to get the look off of her face that indicates that she thinks this has something to do with _her_. “Or he got stuck in traffic. We’re in New York City after all. Not quite as bad as California, but a pretty close second.”_ _

__She looks into his eyes now, her blues such a contrast against his brown, and sighs. “Or he walked into the bar, took one look at me, and walked right back out the door.”_ _

__“That’s...not possible.”_ _

__“Hey, listen Logan, it’s ok. I’m not everyone’s cup of tea.”_ _

__“That’s because you’re not tea. You’re a straight shot of whisky.”_ _

__“I can’t quite explain it but I...I think that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”_ _

__She smiles at him and it’s so beautiful – he can see her entire top row of teeth and the smile goes all the way to her eyes, making them crinkle a little at the corners. If he could take a picture of her right now, he would. “Can you make me a drink, bartender?” Her voice has changed – it’s gotten lower, sultrier, and it’s like the energy in the room shifts with it. Tim is off the table now. She knows it. He knows it. So, what will they do about it? Logan feels a chill run down his spine as he imagines the possibilities._ _

__“One shot of whisky, coming right up.”_ _

__He pours one shot for her and one for himself. They toast and take their shots at the same time. She wrinkles her nose a little at the bitter taste when she’s finished and says, “Whoa, that’ll put hair on your chest.” His eyebrows shoot up because she can’t be foolish enough to draw attention to her chest if she doesn’t want him to think about it, too. When he sees her playing with her necklace, the one resting right between her breasts, aka the best seat in the house, running the small diamond back and forth along the chain, letting it drop for a second only to pick it back up again, he knows. She’s doing this on purpose. And he sure as hell isn’t going to stop her. But he’s also not going to sit up and beg. No, a woman like Veronica needs a challenge. And he’s happy to give her one._ _

__“Your chest doesn’t look very hairy to me. Want another shot?”_ _

__“Why, Logan, are you trying to get me drunk?”_ _

__“Well, it _is_ sorta my job...”_ _

__“Ok, one more. After that I should probably go. I have class pretty early tomorrow.”_ _

__The thought of her leaving is causing alarm bells to go off in his brain. He has to say something, _do_ something, to keep her here, to keep her with him. He tries to act casually as he pours them another round and asks, “Pole dancing class?” He crosses his fingers on his left hand as he pushes her shot toward her with his right._ _

__She scoffs at him. “You wish. Ethical Issues in Criminal Practice. Columbia Law School, baby!” She makes an exaggerated “rock on” symbol before downing her shot. When she looks back at him, her face is so beautifully flushed. He has yet to take his shot. He silently offers it to her instead and she throws it back, too. Veronica Mars can drink. Oh yeah, he loves her._ _

__“Law school, huh? That’s...cool.”_ _

__“How do men do that? You say a word, but somehow give it the complete opposite meaning.” When he looks at her confused, she explains, “The word that came out of your mouth was ‘cool,’ but the meaning behind it was...disappointing.”_ _

__She is so perceptive, even three shots of whisky in, that it actually frightens him a little._ _

__“Sorry, I didn’t mean to be weird. It’s just...law school? You? I don’t see it. I mean, you said you were a PI. That suits you – it’s dangerous, exciting. Being a lawyer? It’s just more of that ‘normal’ crap we talked about before.”_ _

__Her eyes flash with anger as she lets his words sink in. “Whoa. I _am_ a PI. That’s just not the kind of thing you can do forever, Logan. It was always really important to my dad and me that I get out of Neptune, do something different. Something respectable. Being a lawyer makes sense. It’s the smart choice.”_ _

__“Are you convincing me or yourself?”_ _

__“Excuse me?” She shoots her words at him like daggers._ _

__He doesn’t mean to upset her (or maybe he kind of does because she’s even hotter when she’s pissed at him) but he can’t believe these words are coming out of the mouth of this magnificent woman. She is downplaying her talents, ignoring her abilities, stifling her potential. And he _cares_. _ _

__“Oh, come on Veronica, that all sounds so...boring. And a lot like a cop out to me. Like you have the choice between doing what you love, what you’re good at, and doing what’s safe and you’re choosing the safe route.” He shrugs his shoulders, pours himself another shot of whiskey, and throws it back. He’s known this woman two hours and she’s already driving him to drink. He could so get used to this._ _

__She slams a fist down on the bar and exclaims, “Hey!” causing him to jump and Lonely Larry to spill some of his beer and curse under his breath. Without blinking an eye, Logan snags another bottle for him, opens it, and passes it to him, saying, “It’s on the house.”_ _

__Veronica shoots Larry an apologetic look and then turns her fists of fury back to Logan. She lowers her voice slightly and it’s scarier than when she raised it a moment ago. “Who do you think you are? You have no right to judge me and my choices. You don’t even _know_ me.”_ _

__Her words aren’t even that harsh, but for some reason, they sting. He’d thought they’d spent this whole night working _toward_ something. At first, he was trying to buy a one-way ticket into her pants, but after actually talking to her, laughing with her, connecting with her? He felt like he did know her. And the fact that she didn’t feel the same was quite a blow. She continues to stare straight into his eyes, her chest rising and falling with angry breaths, and there’s that animal again. Maybe it’s a jaguar? Nope, still not quite it..._ _

__He puts his hands up in surrender for the second time that night. He is pretty sure he would give up full control to her anytime. “I’m sorry.” She turns her head away from him and this time, he cups her chin with his hand and moves her to face him. He feels he has earned that. “Hey, Veronica, I mean it, I’m sorry. You’re right, ok? I shouldn’t have judged. But, for what it’s worth, I _do_ feel like I know you. And I just think you deserve a life that makes you completely happy. That’s all. If it’s being a lawyer, that’s awesome. If it’s being a PI, that’s great too. As long as you’re happy, that’s all that counts.” He pulls his hand away from her chin, and he misses the contact as soon as it’s over. He can still feel her skin on his as she smiles weakly at him._ _

__“Thank you. I just...I’m still figuring things out. I _do_ love the PI work. It’s who I am. But I _don’t like_ when guys I just met try to make me face tough choices that I’m not ready for yet.”_ _

__“That’s oddly specific...” He’s trying to make her laugh again, but she’s not quite ready._ _

__“Logan...”_ _

__She stops talking and sits silently for a moment. He can feel her anger start to abate but he can see that she’s not one to forgive or forget easily. She’s prideful and stubborn as hell, he should know – he is too, never one to back down first. But for her, he feels like he’ll continue to make all kinds of exceptions. He decides to give her some space, check on the other customers, when out of nowhere, Lonely Larry’s gruff voice says, “Aw, give him another chance, lady. He’s a good kid.”_ _

__Veronica laughs, all the tension from a moment ago gone, and leans toward Larry. “Alright, I will, but only because I have _your_ recommendation. If he screws this up, it’s on you.” And she points and winks at Larry and Logan can see that it has made the man’s night. Playful, confident Veronica is coming back and he couldn’t be happier. He wants to kiss Larry for his helpful input. Instead, he just gives her his most innocent look and shrugs._ _

__“Sheesh. All this camaraderie at the bar. It’s like we’re in an episode of Cheers.” She jokes, and just like that, they’re back on track._ _

__“Well, I’m obviously the attractive bartender, Sam Malone.”_ _

__“Sam Malone was a sexist womanizer. And Ted Danson wore a toupee when he played that part, you know.”_ _

__He shrugs and tugs on his hair for comedic effect. “All mine. So, tell me Mars, are you a Diane or a Rebecca?”_ _

__“Child, please. I’m Carla all day.”_ _

__Has he mentioned that he’s in love with her?_ _

__“But Carla doesn’t end up with Sam in the end.” He presents this to her like it’s a problem to be solved and she taps her index finger against pursed lips as if thinking deeply about its solution._ _

__“Guess we’ll need a rewrite then. You any good with a typewriter?”_ _

__“I’m better with other things.” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively at her and she rolls her eyes at him in response, but her cheeks flush a little. He’s starting to notice her tells. Picking up on the subtle hints women give out makes him very good at poker...and _this_._ _

__She looks down at her empty glass and runs her index finger along the rim. He cannot believe his luck. Not only are they back on track, but she’s letting him flirt with her. Even better, she’s flirting with him. But now, he can see her deciding if she should stay or go. Keep talking to this guy she just met tonight, or get a good night’s sleep for her pointless class tomorrow? He knows what _he’s_ hoping for, but he can’t push. Luckily, he doesn’t have to, as she speaks up._ _

__“So, what time do you get off tonight?”_ _

__The joke sits on his tongue and it’s like she’s daring him to make it, like she set him up with that line on purpose. But little does she know, he lives to surprise, so instead he lets it hang in the air just the way she left it for a beat too long before he finally says, “We close at 12 tonight. Usually with cleanup and divvying out tips, I’ll be out of here around 1.”_ _

__That’s later than she was hoping, he can tell by the way the corners of her lips droop down and her eyes flick to the other end of the bar, looking anywhere but at him._ _

__“Of course, I can always just _not_ help with cleanup and let the servers divvy the tips.”_ _

__She subtly perks up at this and says, “Oh, you can do that?”_ _

__“Sure.” He stage whispers, “I have an in with the owner” and then winks at her and is almost overwhelmed by the smile she gives him. It shows that she’s feeling exactly what he is – she’s hoping for more too._ _

__“Good. I can keep you company ‘til then. If you’re ok with it, of course.”_ _

__“I can think of worse ways to spend an evening...”_ _

__They spend the next three hours talking and laughing and flirting. They discuss the bar’s patrons, make up crazy back stories for their lives, and play a few rounds of “Never Have I Ever,” during which he learns that she’s never gone skinny dipping and has never fooled around in a public place (he vows to help her remedy _both_ of those as they are inexcusable). He opens up to her about his painful past and she listens and holds his hand as he explains his move to New York (putting 3000 miles between him and his dad was a no-brainer, even if he did miss the California sun) and it’s the most open he’s ever been with someone he’s just met. He gets the guys in the kitchen to make them anything she wants, which he’s thrilled is extra spicy sings, sliders, and their signature Parmesan-garlic fries. He even lets her behind the bar to try to make a cocktail or two and they have a couple more shots in the process. She’s removed her blazer and her heels and he is shocked at how small she is – her personality is so big, she appears larger than life, but really he could pick her up and spin her around if he wants to – and he does, a couple of times. She gets to know the other servers and she’s kind to all of them. By the end of the night, he is convinced everyone in the bar is as in love with her as he is. On his way out, Larry even turns to Logan and says, “You take care of that girl, now. She’s a keeper.” He looks right into her eyes as he responds, “No doubt in my mind, Larry.” (And then, of course, calls him a cab and gets him into it safely as is their nightly routine.)_ _

__When midnight rolls around, he is actually sad to see the night end. He knows this is where he’ll lose her – she has her early class tomorrow and her life to get back to and he’s got his bar and his friends and his “dates.” But really, he can’t see how he’s going to go back to a life without her in it. Now that he’s gotten to know her, experienced her, taken her in, how can he continue to exist in a world darkened by her absence? He hasn’t even gotten her number, a wrong he decides to right as he insists on walking her to her car. She tells him he’s being silly, she’s parked right down the block, but her words seem forced and she’s walking so close to him that she keeps brushing his hand with her own and he can’t help but feel like maybe she doesn’t want this night to end either._ _

__“This is me,” she says as they stop in front of her silver RAV4 - clearly a necessity engrained in her from California since no one he knows in the city actually has a car. While she rifles through her purse to get her keys, he can’t help but smile to himself as he realizes this car is so _her_ , powerful but sleek, deceptively strong, attractive and secure. They stand in somewhat awkward silence for a bit before she says, “So, I’m really glad my date didn’t show up tonight —” _ _

__And just like that, all thoughts of her car and getting her number fly away with the evening breeze because he needs to do something more immediate, clearer. He takes her face in his hands and without any words his mouth is on hers. His desire for her is so strong that he presses her up against her car and practically slams his body into hers. He feels like he can’t get enough of her, like however close their bodies get, it can’t be close enough. She tastes like Christmas morning. She tastes like freedom. She tastes like strawberries and sin, just like he thought she would. When she bites down on his lower lip and starts to suck, he’s so taken aback that he groans and grinds his hips against her. He moves to her neck, sucking anywhere and everywhere until he finds a spot right below her jawline that makes her knees buckle and then she does the most amazing thing – she moans his name, no, _growls_ it, as she runs her fingers through the short hair on the nape of his neck and that’s when he figures out two things: 1. He knows exactly which animal she reminds him of and 2. He is done for. She owns him now. Maybe forever._ _

__They both finally come up for air and she whimpers from the loss of contact (honestly, he could come from the noises she makes alone), then blushes. He doesn’t know how she does that - how she goes from being so brazen and free, moaning his name, to an innocent angel in the blink of an eye. He’s about to say as much when she laughs and says, “Well, this has been a fun evening...”_ _

__She lets her voice trail off and he almost goes into a complete panic. This night with her can’t end here – there’s still so much he wants to know about her, starting with the color of her underwear and ending with how she takes her coffee in the morning. He knows he has to dial it back though; he can’t be aggressive with her. This is a quality woman, one who deserves to be wooed, worshipped even, so he decides to play it as cool as he can._ _

__“Well, you know,” he begins, running his index finger along her cheek and down her neck, past the spot that was turning bright red from his work, stopping right above the neckline of her blouse, and cheering in his mind when he feels her shiver in response to his touch, “our night doesn’t have to end here, _Bobcat_.”_ _

__She scoffs at him and crinkles her nose and good God does he want her right here and now. “Logan, what do you think? We’re going to fuck right here in the backseat of my car?”_ _

__Her words make his cock hard immediately. Of course, that had been what he’d been imagining in his deepest “let’s pretend we’re in a porn” fantasies, but he’d never actually suggest that to her. The fact that that thought even crossed _her_ mind though is enough to send him over the edge. “No, of course not.” He taps the back door of the car with his knuckle. “It’s not big enough.” He flashes her his best innocent boy smile and it lands – he can tell by the look in her eyes – they’re open, welcoming. _She wants this_. This is his chance. In the back of his mind, he can’t stop the nagging voice reminding him that a nice guy would give her a kiss on the cheek and get her number and just hope that she’d agree to see him again. Luckily for him, he’s not a nice guy. “I was thinking more...my place?” His voice rises at the end – he is not suggesting, he is asking, because, he might not be a nice guy, but he is a _good_ guy, and if she wants this night to end, then end it will, but thoughts of her – in the shower, in lingerie, in nothing at all – _will_ become his new normal._ _

__Logan watches her carefully. He sees the wheels turning in her mind as she considers his offer. She is beautiful when she is lost in thought. Finally, the heavens smile down upon him as she does too._ _

__“Ok, Echolls. Let’s go. But _I’m_ driving.” She winks at him then and it’s the sauciest thing he’s ever seen, and he didn’t think his dick could get any harder, but somehow it does._ _

__“ _Such_ a control freak.” He is giddy as he climbs into the passenger seat of her car and watches her saunter around to the driver’s seat and that’s when it hits him – he’d let her take him anywhere. And he hopes she will, for a long, long time. After all, he is a Mars-tender._ _


End file.
